Secrets of My Hollywood Life #4: Paparazzi Princess by Jen Calonita Read Free Book Online Page B

camera in my face.
    If I wasn't afraid the conversation would be printed in tomorrow's Hollywood Nation , I'd tell Larry exactly where he can put his request. Dealing with guys like Larry is part of being a celebrity, but this past weekend, he crossed the line. He's the one that took a picture of me toasting with Lauren and Ava at the Cinch for a Cause event and sold the photo to some Web sites. All the sites questioned whether I was drinking. Hello! It was seltzer! There was so much controversy about my thirst quencher, Laney had to make a statement: "Kaitlin Burke is too young to drink. She was sipping seltzer with cranberry juice at the Cinch luncheon."
    Can you believe this is the stuff that makes the five o'clock news? Not human injustices or starving children. Me and my beverage choice. It's unreal.
    "Beat it, Larry," Rodney growls, revealing his chipped tooth. He's getting a cap tomorrow, but he's not in any rush. The crack is a badge of stuntman honor in Rodney's book. He cracked it rehearsing a chase scene for a Trident gum commercial he's doing.
    Larry keeps shooting. "You can't stop me. I have every right to be here."
    "Ignore him, Rod," I tell him. I'm not going to let Larry ruin my mood. Today was a pretty good day. Sky, Trevor, and I got to ride all the rides on the Santa Monica Pier in the unseasonably warm (near eighty degrees!) weather. The best part is that no one mentioned FA going off the air even once. For a moment, it felt like any other day of shooting. That is, until I remembered we have less than two months left.
    "Let's get to the car." Nadine gives Larry a look. "He can't get you there."
    We start walking -- cars aren't allowed on the Pier -- and my phone rings. I reach in my new leopard print Cinch bag (I've gotten tons of compliments on it already) and pray the call is from Liz. We've been playing phone tag for two days, which is so unlike us. I look at the caller ID and don't recognize the number. "Hello?"
    "Hey, chickie! It's Ava," she drawls in a deep voice. "Want to hang with me and Lau?"
    I smile to myself. I had so much fun with them at the luncheon. I thought Lauren and Ava were going to be pretty self-involved, but they weren't. They wanted to know a lot about me and my relationship with Austin. We must have talked about boyfriends for an hour. (Lauren's single. Ava is on and off with this popular band's lead singer who is known more for being a serial dater than for his group's singles.)
    "We're going to Chateau Marmont and then dancing," Ava says. "You can come with as long as you don't drink too much, you lush."
    I'm laughing so hard I don't notice the black Escalade pull up next to the street corner we've just reached. Larry jumps out of the way as the car screeches to a halt. The tinted passenger window opens and Rodney grabs my arm. We're prepared to flee when I hear a familiar voice say: "Kaitlin Burke, get in this car right now."
    "Mom?" I peek my head in and see Mom and Dad in the backseat. Mom's face is grave, the way it is after a bad Nielsen number, but she looks great, as usual. She's wearing her favorite Dolce & Gabbana cream-colored pant suit and her long hair is curly. Dad looks like he's ready for a day at the office -- even if he doesn't work at one -- in his light blue Izod button-down shirt and navy trousers. "Is everything okay?" I ask nervously.
    "Everything's fine. Rodney will take Nadine home," Mom presses. "Get in."
    "Ava, I have to call you back," I tell her quickly and hang up as Larry continues to shoot the bizarre scene. I open the backseat door and barely have time to say goodbye to Nadine and Rodney before we pull away.
    "Hi, Kaitlin. How was your day?" Laney is in the front passenger seat. What is she doing here? Laney looks fabulous. Her long blond hair is ironed to flat perfection and she still has a tan from her vacation. She's wearing a black tailored shirt with sleeves she's rolled up to reveal toned arms, her diamond-encrusted Movado, and a tennis